


Four Times Viktor Kissed Yuuri At Midnight (And The One Time He Didn't)

by Pseudopaws (Yuripaws)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 4 Things, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Fluff and Angst, M/M, New Year's Kiss, except that's a lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:03:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12101307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuripaws/pseuds/Pseudopaws
Summary: After a painful breakup, Viktor makes a promise he swears he'll never forget.





	Four Times Viktor Kissed Yuuri At Midnight (And The One Time He Didn't)

**Author's Note:**

> Things I should be doing: Not This
> 
> Thanks Twitter AU bot for the bad idea and my mutuals for enabling me (by begging me not to)
> 
> Also I wrote this at work so forgive its....... existence idk lmao

Maybe things are better off this way. They aren't, of course -- they never are. But this is what Yuuri has to tell himself as he scrambles for the door handle, spilling out of Viktor's car as though he were shapeless, his legs heavy and shaking.

This is what he tells himself as he stumbles into his apartment, vision blurring and hands trembling hard as he sinks into his sofa. 

Maybe things are better off this way.

The loser's mantra. The anthem of the broken-hearted. It's for the best. It wasn't meant to be. Things will be okay. It isn't denial, it's hope.

He jumps slightly as his phone vibrates harshly in his pocket, but he doesn't look at it as he draws it out and slides it away across the cushions.

No. Not denial. It isn't denial that drags him off to bed and smothers him. It's optimism pressing down hard on his chest as he lies awake each night, limbs dead and mind numb. 

Maybe things are better off this way.

Five.

The number of missed calls per day from Viktor. For the first few weeks, anyway. He soon gets the memo that Yuuri refuses to speak to him, although he still sends the occasional text. Yuuri can't help but check his phone every few minutes, but he tells himself that this is just to delete any texts before he can really read them.

At this moment, however, he's regretting this decision, because he's certain that one of them must have said something along the lines of 'Yuuri, are you going to Chris' New Year's Party?'

He is. And so, apparently, is Viktor.

They'd made direct eye contact the second Yuuri had stepped through the door, and it had taken every ounce of Yuuri's willpower not to just turn and leave. The very air had been sucked from his lungs, and from everyone else's, he's sure. The hush that had fallen over the room had lasted only for a moment, but Yuuri had felt eternity ticking away.

And eternity is what the entire party has felt like so far. Yuuri checks his phone for what seems like the thousandth time only to find that eternity had only been a minute ago, and he's got at least thirty more eternities until midnight.

Phichit had tried to get him plastered immediately, like a good friend does, but no amount of false drunken confidence could have ever prepared him for Viktor's presence, so sudden and so near.

He's in the middle of checking his phone again when he finally registers someone in front of him, and the smell of familiar cologne is almost enough to bring Yuuri to his knees. He doesn't want to look up into blue eyes that had once looked back as though they had the entire world laid out in front of them. Yuuri's afraid that they won't look like that anymore. Or maybe they would, and maybe that'd be worse.

Viktor wants to talk. Of course he does.

No corner of the apartment is quiet enough, and so he follows him outside, carefully avoiding the gazes of nosy onlookers. He avoids Viktor's gaze as well, his own fixed on dark and distant clouds.

Viktor's speaking, though Yuuri is struggling both to hear and ignore. The words he's been dreading snake their way into his ear either way, and he takes a deep and shuddering breath.

Viktor wants to stay friends. Of course he does.

He doesn't want to lose him. He values him and still wants him in his life.

Yuuri wants to snap, to tell him that he should have fucking thought of that before he dumped him, but he freezes, voice caught in his throat, because he's finally looked into Viktor's eyes, and what he sees there frightens him. It frightens him because he can't understand it.

The sound of shouting from within startles them both out of their daze, their eyes meeting with a little more clarity. Something seems to release, something unnamed, and Yuuri can't help but relax just the slightest bit. Maybe things really are better off this way.

This state of somewhat begrudging content doesn't last very long, because Viktor pulls him in slowly, and each second being counted down is eternity until their lips meet.

It's a simple kiss, chaste and almost friendly, and Viktor pulls away with a small smile.

He makes Yuuri a promise that almost makes him laugh. 

Four.

The amount of hours of sleep Yuuri has gotten in the past week, he's sure of it. He'd tossed and turned endlessly each night, his heart pounding and his mind racing. 

Viktor is coming to visit for New Year's.

Not for very long, of course. He's been studying abroad, his travels taking him far and wide. Even during the winter break, he's got things to do, places to go. He'd made sure to emphasize that his business back in the US is far out of the way of Detroit, and Yuuri knows that this is his way of saying 'I haven't forgotten, see?'

It isn't anything very special. It almost feels like pity, the way he arrives just one minute before midnight with a hurried apology for being late and a promise to catch up properly some other time. The kiss he presses to his lips feels rushed, though something about it lingers as they pull away.

But Yuuri doesn't have much time to dwell on this, because Viktor wraps him in a warm embrace one last time before hopping back into his new and much nicer car. He'd left the engine running, and its low purr fades into the distance along with the last thing Yuuri's ever cared about.

Three.

The number of months before he hears from Viktor again. A very much belated apology. The offer to see each other again for a cup of coffee during spring break. Yuuri's surprised to find himself agreeing, and he's even more surprised to find himself seeing Viktor for more than just a quick drink. 

They're almost dates. Almost. Yuuri refuses to call them that, but he doesn't know what else to think as they turn to each other on Yuuri's doorstep, the two of them so used to goodbye kisses. Viktor seems to settle on a goodbye hug instead, and Yuuri surprises himself once again by hugging back.

They're on that same doorstep again several months later, and although Viktor's car is still running, he doesn't seem in any hurry to leave. After all, they'd just gotten here. Viktor looks regal in his tux, and Yuuri hopes he looks just as impressive -- something he knows is impossible, despite Viktor's reassurances that he'd 'looked incredible tonight.'

Yuuri had thanked him for those reassurances as profusely as he had thanked him for the tux itself. A late birthday gift, along with the honor of escorting him to an upscale and very exclusive club for New Year's Eve. He'd phrased it that way exactly, and Yuuri had actually laughed aloud, swatting at his arm. This had surprised both of them, but they had tried to keep that to themselves. Yuuri isn't sure how he feels about them slipping back into their old habits.

Old habits, just like the way Viktor presses a quick kiss to his nose during their countdown, making Yuuri lose track immediately. Before he can compose himself for the final seconds, Viktor takes his face in his hands. The way he used to. The fireworks are defeating tonight, but Yuuri barely hears them over the sound of his heart thudding against his chest as Viktor kisses him.

Something about it is as slow and searching as their night had been, but Yuuri's almost glad when it's over. He's almost glad when he waves Viktor goodbye, and he's almost glad to see him tear down the streets, just as bad of a driver as always.

He's almost glad when he's alone, because he doesn't want Viktor to see him cry.

Two.

The number of takes to finally register Viktor standing in the doorway of his family's onsen in Hasetsu. Yuuri nearly walks by him, mind frazzled with preparations for the night, and has to do a double-take. Twice. 

But it's really him, grinning boldly and adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder. Yuuri doesn't know what to say for a moment, but before he can even make an attempt to speak, his mother comes bustling out to nearly tackle Viktor to the ground with an enthusiastic hug and shouts of welcome. The rest of his family follows suit, and Yuuri watches in amazement as Viktor explains that his recent travels had landed him in Japan for the winter, and he just had to stop by. Just for tonight.

Yuuri isn't sure if his decision to spend the winter break with his family this year had been his way of trying to avoid Viktor, but either way, he'd warned him that he'd be here instead of at home, just in case he wanted to visit. Viktor hadn't responded.

He looks at home in his onsen robes, and Yuuri wouldn't be surprised if these were the same ones he'd worn the last time he'd stayed for the summer years ago. Had it really been so long? An eternity, maybe, but the concept no longer holds much meaning to Yuuri anymore.

His sister covers for him as he slips outside with Viktor a few minutes before midnight. They're bundled warmly, but there's something cold and aching between them that Yuuri desperately wants filled.

Viktor tells him that he's missed him. Yuuri can't remember the last time he'd said that. Maybe that time at Chris' party, maybe somewhere in all the things he'd said that Yuuri had tried so hard not to hear. Or maybe somewhere in the texts he'd been deleting before they'd agreed to stay friends.

Maybe Viktor hadn't had to say it. Maybe it had always been the look in his eyes when they were together. Maybe it had always been in the tone of his voice, or at the tip of his fingers whenever they touched.

Maybe things aren't better off this way.

This is what Yuuri tells himself when Viktor kisses him at midnight. Everything about him is warm, and Yuuri doesn't want to let go. Not again. But he has to, because the new year has begun, and it'll be an eternity until the next one.

An eternity, he thinks later, alone in his room. The distance between him and the spare guest room seems to stretch for an eternity.

One.

Almost exactly one year until the next time Viktor kisses Yuuri.

Almost.

A fancy car picks him up to take him to an even fancier apartment. A penthouse, maybe. Yuuri isn't sure, but he triple checks the address. Which is stupid of him, because the hired valet that had taken here him from the airport would obviously know if this were truly Viktor's building.

He quadruple checks the room number, even though it's been glaring at him from his phone screen for the past few weeks. Ever since Viktor had so graciously invited him to spend the holiday with him in New York, all expenses paid.

He isn't sure what to expect when Viktor opens the door, but it isn't this.

An apartment worth five times more than his own salary, sure. A breathtaking view of the city, of course. Without a doubt.

But not the candles, burning low and giving the room a cozy and warm glow. Not the lovely dinner that had been laid out, because when had Viktor learned to cook like _that?_ And definitely not the bouquet of roses in his hand, the petals as red as Yuuri's deeply flushed face. Viktor's, on the other hand, looks rather pale, starkly contrasting the nice black three-piece suit he's decided to wear this evening.

They stare at one another for some time.

"What... is this?" Yuuri asks cautiously.

"I don't know," Viktor admits immediately. "I panicked."

Yuuri snorts so loudly that he has to cover his face with his hands, and Viktor hovers uncertainly, seemingly unsure if this is a good reaction or not. But Yuuri's giggling soon sets off his own, and he grins sheepishly as he sets down the bouquet to take Yuuri in his arms.

"We need to talk."

And so they do.

They talk over dinner -- about themselves, about each other, about their relationship, about their breakup, about the paths they had taken in life, about each new year and new kiss, about Chris' party and how funny it'd been when Georgi had thrown up on Yuri's shoes, about how nice it had been to visit Yuuri's family, about how much Viktor had missed the sound of Yuuri's snoring and the way he could never find his glasses in the morning, about the way Viktor used to burn toast but can now apparently cook full-course meals, about the ways they had changed and the ways they were still themselves.

They talk so much and for so long that it takes several explosions to tear their attention from each other.

Yuuri finally glances out the window to see the entirety of the sky consumed by fire. Fireworks. Already?

He checks his phone and sees that they're over an entire minute into the new year. It had seemed like nothing, but they had been speaking for an eternity, their meals long gone. They had been devouring each other's words instead.

One midnight gone.

Their eyes meet again, and this time, their hands meet as well, Yuuri reaching across the table to place his on top of Viktor's with none of his usual hesitancy. Viktor returns his smile, and Yuuri finally understands the look in his eyes. Maybe he always had.

One New Year's kiss missed. But they have all the time in the world.


End file.
